


If It Ain't Broke...

by 26stars



Series: How I Met Melinda [14]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU Meeting, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Could be a SHIELD-free AU or just pre-canon, Fluff, Gen, Marvel Fluff Bingo 2020, References to Alcohol, Roadside Assistance, The literal kind I mean it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/pseuds/26stars
Summary: After finishing a late shift at the bar, Skye's car won't start. One of the patrons offers her a hand.Fills my Fluff Bingo square for 'car broke down'.
Relationships: Melinda May & Skye | Daisy Johnson
Series: How I Met Melinda [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/797127
Comments: 18
Kudos: 61
Collections: Marvel Fluff Bingo, Women of the MCU





	If It Ain't Broke...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lazyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/gifts).



It’s been a long shift and a longer day, and Skye is very ready to be done with both as she clocks out at the bar where she’s been working the last shift for the past couple of months. The kitchen has been closed since ten, but she has a to-go box of leftovers literally with her name on it tucked into the fridge, and she’s looking forward to a midnight snack followed by a hard sleep, even if they are both in the same five-by-ten space she calls home.

Her van is parked out in the employee spaces at the back of the lot behind the bar, and although she could probably get away with sleeping in her van back there, she’s still trying to keep up appearances with her co-workers and not let it be too obvious that she’s homeless. The plan tonight is to fill the tank and then camp out in a friend’s driveway—Mike has always been very understanding and will usually let her borrow his shower and kitchen on the days that he’s off work.

But as Daisy climbs into the driver’s seat and reflexively locks the doors behind her, she feels her plans get derailed as she turns the key in the ignition.

Her Old Faithful van is not so faithful tonight.

Groaning aloud as she fruitlessly tries the engine again and again, Skye resorts to pleading with the inanimate object as she nudges the gas pedal, trying to coax it to start. After a few unproductive minutes, she heaves a leaden sigh and climbs back out of the car, popping the hood and using her phone as a flashlight.

“Come on, Faith, why are you doing this to me tonight?” she whines, feeling defeated. A girl living in a car really should know how to read a dead engine, but she hasn’t made it that far yet.

“Need a hand?” a female voice calls, and Skye turns over one shoulder, spotting a woman standing in the slanted orange light of the parking-lot lamp, her hands in the pockets of her dark jacket.

“What’s the matter?” the woman asks, not moving towards Skye, seeming to be making an effort not to appear threatening.

“Nothing,” Skye calls back automatically. “I’m okay.”

“You might be, but your car obviously isn’t,” the woman says, finally shifting closer. “Do you know what’s wrong?”

Skye stares back into the guts of her car, mentally calculating how much a tow and the repairs are going to cost her.

“I honestly have no idea.”

She now hears the woman approaching, but Skye doesn’t reach for the can of mace she has on her keychain yet.

“You sure it’s not the battery?” the woman says, peering in next to Skye.

“No,” Skye says quickly, glad she at least knows the answer to this question. “It’s turning over, but it won’t catch.”

“Are you sure you have gas in the tank?”

“I had half a tank on my way here,” Skye says as the woman gets down to peer under the car, using her own cell-phone light.

“When was your last service?”

“Service. Ha. That’s cute.” Skye tries not to blush in shame, even though the woman obviously can’t see her.

“Do you drive it low on gas often?”

“All the time,” Skye admits.

“All right, I have a couple of guesses,” the woman says as she straightens up again, finally looking fully at Skye. “Do you have any tools?”

At that moment, Skye suddenly recognizes her. It’s the Asian woman who had been sitting by herself at the end of the bar for most of Skye’s shift—she’d left when they’d announced closing time, so Skye’s suddenly suspicious to see her here, forty-five minutes later, as if she’d been waiting for her in the lot.

“I needed to sober up before driving home,” the woman says then, as if reading Skye’s mind. “I walked around a few blocks and was just on my way back to my car.” She points at another vehicle, a boring gray sedan that’s the only one left in the customer front lot.

 _Scotch whiskey neat,_ Skye remembers from the woman’s order and subsequent refills. _She’d had three. I guess it’s possible…_

“Again, though, do you have any tools?” Whiskey Neat repeats, quirking a brow at Skye.

“No, sorry,” Skye says, feeling even more embarrassed.

“Okay. Well, I think I know what the problem is. If you don’t have roadside assistance, I have a kit in my car, and I can run over to the gas station down the street and get what else you should need.”

“Thank you, but you don’t have to do that,” Skye says automatically. “I’ll figure it out.”

“What’s your plan? It’s against the girl code to leave a single girl stranded with car trouble after dark.” Whiskey Neat looks at her expectantly.

Skye stares back into the engine, suddenly fighting the urge to cry.

“Hop back in the cab and lock the doors,” the other woman says, brushing her elbow as she turns towards the road. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

“You don’t need to be walking around by yourself either—”

“I can take care of myself. Lock the doors.”

~

Whiskey Neat has a plastic shopping sack with her when she comes back around to the lot, and at her order, Skye pops the hood again. She comes alongside her to hold the flashlight as the woman gets to work, not seeming worried about getting dirty as she leans over the grimy space.

“If it’s not the battery and you know you’ve got gas, next thing to check is the oil,” she explains, pointing. “Have you changed your own oil before?”

“No,” Skye admits. “And honestly, I don’t know if it’s been changed since I got the car.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Over a year ago,” Skye admits shamefacedly.

“Okay. Well, in the future, aim for every six months. A jug of motor oil costs maybe thirty bucks. The price tag of a burnt-out engine will ruin your year.”

Skye watches attentively as the woman first explains how to check the oil, pointing out how old the oil looks on the dipstick, then details the process for changing it. Skye’s car is tall enough that Whisky Neat can get under it without raising it up on a jack, and Skye keeps guard with one eye and watches her work with the other. Once the old oil is drained out into the plastic bag (“You’re really only supposed to use certain containers but the gas station didn’t have any…”) and the parts beneath are reassembled, the woman climbs out and coaches Skye through adding the new oil.

“Okay, let’s give her a try,” the woman says once it’s all done, and Skye hops back into the car to stick in her keys. The car grumbles haltingly for a couple of turns, and then suddenly catches and roars to life. Skye lets out a gleeful whoop and punches the air, jumping out of the car grinning.

“You are incredible! Thank you so much!” she says, and Whisky Neat looks rather proud of herself as she lowers the hood back over the engine.

“I’m glad it was a simple fix. If that didn’t work, my next guess was the fuel pump, and they don’t sell those in gas stations.” The woman starts gathering up the things she bought. “Here—keep this in your car and set a reminder on your phone to do it again in three months or so.” She holds out the bottle of oil and the funnel, and Skye quickly stows them in the trunk.

“God, I seriously can’t thank you enough. What do I owe you?” Skye says, offering the woman one of her darker shirts to wipe her hands on.

“Don’t worry about it,” Whisky Neat says, waving her off. “And don’t let me ruin your shirt. I’ve got napkins in the car.”

“Well, let me buy at least give you a couple of rounds on me next time you’re in,” Skye says. “A couple of whiskey neats?”

The woman nods with a tight-lipped smile, backing away. “Now that I could agree to. Have a safe night, Skye.”

She’s startled for a minute before she realizes she’s still wearing her employee name tag. “Wait a second-- what’s your name?” she calls after the woman before she’s gone.

Whiskey Neat doesn’t look back, just tosses the name over her shoulder like an afterthought. “Melinda.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's always nice to come back and add to this series. :)
> 
> If you're on Tumblr and would like to make a request off my bingo card, send me a message at loved-the-stars-too-fondly (I'm not posting it publicly tho bc I don't want to get overwhelmed with prompts!)


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